The Malfoys: Lucius
by Normandie M
Summary: Lucius' POV. You should read Narcissa's POV before this one. Even more angst and lots of misery on Lucius' part. R/R!


Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and the Malfoy and all stuff related belong to JK Rowling.  
  
A/N: After the astonishing amount of praise for the first POV (23 reviews! I only got two for my first story on FF.net.) I bring you the brother story, from Lucius' POV at the same time as the first. Once again, feel free to Review!  
  
  
The Malfoys: Lucius  
  
What the devil am I doing? It's not at all like me to be like this. Just sitting at my desk, in my office watching the snow falling on this Winter's day, my mind blank. I look around my office momentarily, a sigh escaping my lips. My eyes fall upon the ebony frame on my desk. I pick it up and can't help but smile. It's a picture of my wife, Narcissa. She smiles back at me, though in a wistful way. In these days of misery, tyranny and hard times, she is my shining light, my goddess. She's never left me and I cannot fool myself into thinking it's out of pure love. I'm well aware that she fears me. It's simple when you think about it: She fears me and my position and power. It shows whenever I come to her. I would do anything for her, and I would never hurt her. But there isn't any way I can think of that'll make her believe this.  
  
She wants what I can't give her. She wants a normal, comforting, happy life. You simply can't have a life like this when you're married to a person of great power and position such as I. The position I wield can put any muggle government or crime mob to shame. She wants for nothing, and yet I can't give her what she wants.  
  
I shut my eyes for a moment and rub them. I have not been sleeping much lately. I rise slowly from my chair and make my way from my office down the corridors. My house elf Dobby, bows to me feverishly before running off to the kitchens. I ascend two staircases and wind my way down another corridor before I reach our bedroom, opening the door.  
  
Narcissa is sleeping in a chair by the window, a blanket slipping slowly off her lap. The white dress she's wearing gives her an almost ethereal glow. I walk quietely over to her and observe her. She is seven months pregnant with our first child and I place my hand gently on her swelling stomach. She stirs slightly and makes a nervous sound. Even in her sleep, she's scared of me.  
  
I move and sit down, opposite her and stare at her. The falling snow backdrop gives her a rather angelic look. She is my life and I wish to assure her, to hold her and not have her shake or cry with fear at my touch. I have given her the chance to go, not once but twice. Both times she stayed. I guess this a good thing, but I don't know why she did. Taking this into consideration, maybe she does love me.  
  
She stirs again, and her head falls to face me. I still sit and stare at her. I have never been able to express my feelings well to others, not even to myself. But as I sit here, looking at Narcissa, I feel my eyes grow wet, and a tear slips down my cheek. I could have everything in this world, but the one thing I do want I can't have. I put my head in my hands and begin to cry in earnest. I have never cried, that I can remember. I don't think I even cried as a child. I was taught not to cry at an early age. I'm crying more because I have thought of something that she said a few days ago.  
  
It was while we were talking about the child, and in answer to a question I asked, she placed a hand on her stomach and said nervously. "I am afraid this child will become his father."  
She burst into tears and ran from the room afterwards. I was stunned, and for the last couple of days I've shut the remark out of my mind. But now, I can see her saying it, and it hurts, badly. My tears sting my eyes and I can feel my shoulders heave with my silent sobs. I feel something on the back of my head and I spring out of my seat abruptly. She has awoken, and looking at me unhappily, she puts her hand forward. She withdraws it at the sight of my tears and I sit down again, and lean back into the chair. Startled, she raises her head slightly to look at me properly.  
"Lucius?" she asks quietely. I can't stop the tears flowing. She moves from her chair, and drops to her knees, at my feet.  
"Lucius, what's the matter?" she asks again, in a more worried voice. The drastic change from my normal facade has frightened her slightly. Her face is full of concern. I reach my hand out to cup her chin and a weak smile comes to my face. Her fear seems to melt away momentarily as she wipes some tears away from my face. Struggling slightly, she gets up and clumsily puts her arms around me. Our foreheads touch lightly and she speaks words of reassurance to me like a mother would to a child. I am a strong man, but even strong men need comfort and reassurance.  
"Oh Lucius, what's wrong?" she asks again, her voice racked with emotion I've never heard before. I don't know what to say in reply, but she seems to understand.   
"I'm sorry for being you misery." She says softly. Then, sensing my how cold I feel, she reaches for the blanket that covered her lap. She drapes around my shoulders. This simple gesture brings fresh tears to my eyes. She still speaks to me, softly. It's then that I realize she will be a wonderful mother to our child.  
  
With shaky legs, I stand up and straighten my suit absently. I feel drained from the last few days and the tears I have cried. Almost immediately I sit back down, on our bed. Narcissa stands in front of me, tucking straying dark hair away from my face. It is unusual for her to touch me of her own volition. Not that I blame her for it. I never blame her for anything. Looking up, I see her move to the bathroom. Minutes later she emerges with a washcloth. Lowering herself onto the bed, beside me, she dabs at my eyes and I close them, sighing tiredly. She knows I am tired, so she instructs me to lie down. Removing my suit coat, I do as she says. In the white gown she wears, she seems to actually be an angel.  
"I'm sorry I'm not the husband you want me to be." I murmur. Moments later, I hear her crying herself. She drops to her knees on the floor in front of my view.   
"And I'm sorry for not being the father for our child that you want me to be." I add, as an afterthought, stroking the top of her fair hair. She shakes her head fiercely, sobbing.  
"I don't know if you've ever loved me, and I am sorry for the live I have made you live." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even stop them. She gets up painfully, and I pull her into my arms. I kiss her quietely, and it seems that kiss brings all emotional walls inside me to crumbling ruins. Her eyes are full of the sincerity and truth, and the purest of thoughts.  
"I do love you, Lucius." She says.  
I find myself staring, unable to utter a word.  
She kisses me, and we hold each other close.  
"You are the best husband you can be, and I love you for that,"  
Her head rests on my collarbone.  
"and you'll be as good a father to our child as you know how, and I will love you for that too."  
She moves to lie down against me, and I place my arms around her, and the child that will be ours. As I drift off to sleep, I feel something that I have not felt in ages. Hope.  
  
The End  



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